This Night Has Opened My Eyes
by coloursflyaway
Summary: Sequel to 'Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me'  'The door creaks a little when you push it open and for a second, your heart stops.'


The door creaks a little when you push it open and for a second, your heart stops. Then you remember that every sound, even if it's as small as a breath, seems to be just as loud as an army attacking Camelot at this time of night. Still, your steps are even more tentative than usual when you walk into his chambers. They have become far too familiar in the past few weeks, and it is getting easier and easier to imagine waking up in them each morning, maybe even beside him.

You can hear your pulse, loud and far too fast in your ears and it keeps you from closing the gap between you and his bed. Although you know that it is impossible, it feels as if your heartbeat alone would be enough to wake him up.

However, just standing here is more than you would have hope for when you first met him. He was all beauty and life and passion, but never would you have thought you'd get so close, so quickly. And never, _never_ you'd have thought he'd become more to you than a pretty face, a stupid crush, but instead go and take your heart with him without even trying.

You'd never have expected to fall for him.

When you finally have calmed down enough, you cross the room and find yourself in front of him. It's almost laughable how a simple look still takes your breath away, but you just can't help it. There is everything you want from life, laid out right in front of you and all you can do is trail a shaky finger down from his cheekbone to his jaw, until your heart begins pumping far too fast again. Holding your breath, you take one step back and turn around. You have no idea what is different today, but you are feeling even more insecure than usually.

The night, you notice, is beautifully clear; in the distance you can make out the forests and mountains. It feels as if you could touch them, if you just tried.

Just as you lift your hand to trace their outlines with your fingertips, like you usually do with his features, you hear a soft voice from behind, which successfully breaks down your entire world in a second.  
>'So I haven't been dreaming, then.'<p>

You don't want to turn around, but you do, and there he is, propped up on his elbow, hair still tousled from sleep, looking up at you from his beautiful, beautiful eyes.

You don't know what to say.

Probably subconsciously he traces the invisible line you painted onto his skin just minutes ago before he speaks again.

'I've been wondering if I was only imagining things', he says, and you have no idea how he can be so calm.

'You see, I was so sure that it wasn't real, it _couldn't be_ real, for you would never do anything like this. Especially after the first night, when you came here and just stood beside my bed watching. I didn't dare to look up back then, I was too afraid to break the moment. But you came back and I kept telling myself those nightly visits weren't more than dreams, that you would never even consider touching me so…lovingly, or speak those words. They had to be products of my sick, twisted mind, not even letting me rest in peace, but continuing to show me what I longed for but could never have.'

It is then that suddenly everything around you starts spinning. Have you heard him correctly? There has to be some kind of cruel mistake in this, for he never could _long_ for you.

You look up, and can't believe what you see: There is no disgust in his eyes, no loathing.

He must have noticed your puzzlement, since he laughs quietly and then, ever so slowly, reaches out a hand and traces a line from your cheekbone down to your jaw, just like the one you drew on his skin.

'You know what gave you away tonight? What made it clear that this was real?', he whispers and you nod your head softly; not wanting the physical contact to break you sit down beside him.

'I didn't wake up when I spoke to you. The other times I always did.'

'You've dreamt about me?', you ask before even noticing that somehow you've got your voice back.

There's a soft smile on his lips and his eyes are twinkling, although the room is dark when he answers, 'Always.'

And then there's another finger on you cheek, and another, until his hand cups your face; there' a sweet, tender pull and he brings your face close to his; you are able to feel his breath on your lips.

Your head starts swimming and everything feels a hundred times lighter than it should. In the back of your mind, you just wait for yourself to wake up.

But a second later your lips are touching, a connection barely there, but enough to feel the movement on your skin when he talks.

'You are not going to wake up', he whispers, as if he had read your mind, 'And neither am I.'

With this he closes the gap and suddenly, everything else is wiped out of existence, because nothing, _nothing_ else matters.

The kiss is chaste and short and sweet and barely more than a brush of lips against lips, but more than perfect to you anyway. When you break apart, you hardly move, so you can still feel his warmth radiating from his body.

There is a tiny hint of desperation in your voice when you speak, for somehow he rips all the confidence and barriers you've built up through the years away and leaves you vulnerable.

'If this really isn't a dream, then, do you mean it?'

His brows furrow and his gaze hardens a little, 'Wait… you do not believe I want this?'

He breaks away from you and stares at you intently.

'What kind of terrible picture do you have of me? Do you really think I don't care about you at all, that you're just someone I happen to know? Is that what you expect, me to go around playing with your feelings; do you really believe I am this heartless and cruel?'

Not once, he raises his voice, but somehow it is that which makes the words even scarier. He must have noticed the terror in your eyes, for he stops and the look on his face changes into one of worry.

'My goodness, I've scared you, haven't I? I'd never have thought this would happen one day…', his fingers find their way to your hand, and squeeze it lightly, 'I'm so sorry, it's just…the thought of you having this image of me, it hurts. A lot. You are the only person whose opinion will ever matter. Is there any way I could change your view? Any way I could show you I am worthy of your trust?'

His grip has tightened, his gaze fixed on the blanket and with every word he speaks, your chest hurts more and more. You cannot bear watching him like this, so you take his hand between yours and scoot a little closer.

'I don't think of you in this way; I never could. It's just that… it was so hard to believe you could feel the same way as I do. Believe me, please. I really…' you let your voice trail off; even beginning the sentence was a mistake. But then you look at him and all the despair his eyes harboured before has turned into hope and there is no way you can resist it.

'…really care about you', you finish. It isn't what you wanted to say in the beginning, but obviously it is enough for the spark returns to his eyes and a smile to his lips.

'So you do believe me?' he asks and gently pries off your fingers so he can intertwine them with his own.

You can feel your heart flutter as you nod.

This one motion makes it so much more official, more real; obviously he feels it too, for his expression is the same as yours: Full of sheer joy and awe. So you shift another bit closer, while still clasping his hands and he smiles and it feels like the most wonderful thing you've ever experienced.

Almost shyly you lean in a little, somehow it still feels daring to even think about kissing him; his smile widens, he lets go of your hands and snakes his arms around your neck.

'I hope I didn't read you wrong', he whispers, but doesn't wait for your answer before pressing a short kiss to your lips.

'You didn't', comes your answer a second later, and gathering your courage you lean in once more. The kiss lasts a little longer than the ones before, so you can feel the slide of his lips against yours, his slight stubble, and with that, he takes your breath away once more.

When you break apart, he looks just as breathless as you do, so he rests his forehead against yours and shares your air, before after a moment or two he whispers, ' Just so you know…I love you too.'


End file.
